


In Sickness and In Health

by chibi_nightowl



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Capes (DCU), Angst, Coping, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Illness, Pie Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 06:57:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20887985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibi_nightowl/pseuds/chibi_nightowl
Summary: “Do you play therapist with everyone you pull over?” Tim asked.Officer Grayson grinned. “Call it part of my community outreach hours. Besides, pie therapy works wonders."





	In Sickness and In Health

**Author's Note:**

> This story is my therapy, pure and simple. Some of it is my current reality, other parts are pure fiction, while still others are thoughts that have buzzed through my head as I lay awake at night. However, at no point have I been pulled over for speeding. 
> 
> Many thanks to GoAwayOlivia for beta reading this, as well as other things. You know what they are.

Tim slammed the car door behind him, sucking in a deep breath as he placed his hands on the wheel. Hot tears stung at his eyes and through the blur, he could just make out the well-lit entrance of the hospital. 

The hospital he’d spent the better part of the last twenty-four hours at and where Jason had just kicked him out with orders to go home, take a shower, and get some sleep. They both knew he was more than capable of staying awake for longer periods of time, but now really wasn’t a time to test the boundaries of Tim’s endurance. 

Not that he had much left, he begrudgingly admitted to himself as he clasped the wheel. 

It was just…frustrating. Exhausting. Weeks of waiting for appointments and tests, of doing what the doctors told them, had ended with Tim entering the hall bathroom late last night to find Jason vomiting blood.

In the back of his mind, he hoped, _prayed_ even, that this event would jumpstart things. And it had. As Jason was hooked up to an IV, a big fat bag of saline that his dehydrated body all too readily absorbed, Tim spent the time explaining to the doctor what brought them in. Weeks and weeks of watching his husband slowly starve despite all efforts to tempt his appetite. The amount of weight he’d lost over just two months. How the long-awaited appointment with the gastrologist turned into an appointment with the cardiologist because of Jason’s too low pulse and the shortness of breath when he spoke. And now, waiting even more for the heart tests while he was still starving.

It was a good day if Jason was able to eat a thousand calories of real food. The rest was made up of nutritional supplement shakes and other fluids. Solid foods might be out but liquids he took like a champ. Smoothies were hit or miss, and it never failed that when something piqued Jason’s appetite enough to be consumed one day, it utterly failed the next. 

To say it was frustrating was an understatement. 

When he perked up some, Jason explained how he wanted to eat, that he loved food and exploring new places and cuisines with Tim was how they spent their date nights after a long week at work. He spoke about how he was the one who experimented in the kitchen, that his husband never failed to deliver a critique that comprised of praise, ideas for next time, and often, whoever came up with the original recipe was on crack because panko breadcrumbs just didn’t belong in meatballs. 

_“It’s like a crime against good meat.”_

_“Since when is sausage considered good meat?”_

_“Heathen. Remember those green chili brats we grilled up over Memorial Day? Didn’t hear you complainin’ then.”_

The doctor chuckled as she made her notes, then suggested Jason be admitted into the hospital where he was promptly scheduled for a round of tests that consisted of exactly what they’d been waiting so long for. 

Tim took a perverse joy in calling around later that morning to cancel those appointments, as well as leave messages with the other doctors that things had deteriorated to the point where Jason had been admitted. A silent _fuck you_ was left unsaid at the end of every call. 

Cleared of any heart issues, the upper GI endoscopy was now scheduled for the following morning. Tears of joy welled up in both their eyes as the nurse delivered that news, and Tim could still feel Jason’s hand wrapped weakly around his own.

_“Fucking finally.”_

_“I know. And all it took was you vomiting blood.”_

The news still didn’t make leaving any easier. After ten years of marriage, sleeping alone wasn’t something either of them did easily anymore. But there were things to do at home, such as spending time with their overgrown baby Darcy who probably hadn’t liked Stephanie coming over to take him out for his walks earlier. Their neighbor was a nurse who worked at Gotham General and had been the one to suggest Jason finally go to the hospital after Tim came pounding on her door the night before when the blood was still smeared around his husband’s mouth.

_“Take him to Mercy. I know the drive is longer, but he’ll receive better care there.”_

_“Are you sure?”_

_“Damn right, I’m sure. General is a hellhole I can’t wait to get out of.”_

Tim blinked hard and wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve. Sitting here in the parking lot wasn’t doing him any good and high above, the light from Jason’s window was dark. They’d joked earlier that the view of the parking lot below was utterly fantastic and conveyed a perfect atmosphere for the patients here. 

“Get it together,” he muttered, fumbling with his keys before putting the right one in the ignition of his old Civic. The thing had lasted a lot longer than he’d ever dreamed and he fully planned to drive it until it started to fall apart around him. 

He could already hear Jason’s snort._ “And take you out with it, dumbass.”_

Jason. 

Tears welled up again and Tim sniffed hard, starting the car and putting it in reverse before his mind wandered back to his husband. 

He was going to be fine. They’d figure out what was wrong soon. Possibly tomorrow, which was a damn sight better than next month. 

But the drive did nothing to distract Tim from his racing thoughts. If it were day, then he could at least focus on the traffic. However, it was late and even Gotham’s streets were mostly empty. The expressway crossing the Sprang even more so and without realizing it, he started to drive faster and faster, missing his exit altogether as his brain flitted between thoughts, each one growing more morbid than the next. 

That was the way his mind worked though, going over every scenario whether he wanted to or not. It was hard to remain positive in the face of it all, but Tim had to because if he didn’t, then Jason would fall into another depressed funk. He was Jason’s rock. 

But it hurt that his rock wasn’t available for him. Sure, he has friends he could talk to, but he didn’t want to burden them with everything. And his family? Forget it. His parents hadn’t liked his marriage to Jason from the start, even though they loved the social status that came from their son marrying a Wayne, adopted as he was. Jason’s family wasn’t much better, with Bruce off doing his own thing and barely around to mind his hell-spawn Damian. No one needed to know just how depressed he himself had become. How getting up each morning and leaving for work was the most difficult thing in the world because then he couldn’t be there for Jason if he needed him. 

How it felt like nothing he did helped, even when Jason would take his hand and press a gentle kiss across the back of his knuckles with a whispered_ “thanks, babe”._

It would be absolute hell if those blue eyes, often so fuzzy from weakness these days, were to never open and greet him again.

Tears welled up once more as his unhelpful brain provided an image of just that, of Jason, thin and pale, with his beautiful eyes closed forever more. God, what was wrong with him? This was not happening. It wasn’t, not for years, _decades_, more. He was too young to be a widower.

The flashing lights behind Tim pulled him back to the present. 

He glanced at the speedometer and winced. Crap.

Pulling over, Tim glanced around, trying to figure out where he was. He must have been between exits as there was nothing to give him a clue. It was just him, his car, the road, and the cop making his way over.

The car window rolled down slowly, and Tim leaned over to the glovebox to remove his registration and insurance card. He was in the midst of removing his wallet from his pocket when the officer stopped by the open window, shining a flashlight inside and just to the side of his face.

It blinded Tim briefly and he dropped his wallet to place his hands on the wheel where they could be seen. This was Gotham and the last thing he needed was for a cop to get twitchy during a traffic stop.

“Hello there,” the officer drawled. “Do you have any idea how fast you were going back there?”

“About eighty,” Tim replied, not seeing a point in lying.

“That’s right. Do you know what the speed limit is?”

“In the city, I think it’s fifty-five.”

The officer chuckled. “Does it look like you’re in the city anymore?”

Tim shook his head. “Nope. I just…started driving and haven’t stopped.”

“Well, it’s sixty-five out here.”

“Do you mind if I ask where here is?”

“You’re about ten miles out from Blüdhaven.”

Tim jerked in his seat, surprised. “I live in Gotham Heights.”

“Then you’re about forty miles in the wrong direction.” The officer frowned. “Have you been drinking, sir?”

“No, I haven’t. I left my husband in the hospital and meant to head home. But…” he looked away, feeling the tears stinging his eyes again. “I guess I just didn’t want to return to an empty house.” Darcy wasn’t much of a conversationalist. All he’d do is give him the big doe eyes and drool all over his lap as they laid in bed and missed Jason.

The officer lowered the flashlight and propped himself against the car door. “Is it serious?” he asked, empathy clear in his voice.

“It is now.” Tim’s voice broke. “He’s been sick for months, just wasting away slowly. Each specialist we need to see takes forever to get into and the tests they want done take even longer. The one test he really needs he can’t even get done because they’re concerned his heart isn’t up to it. Fuck, if he could just _eat_ something, then he’d be strong enough. There’s never been anything wrong with his heart before. It’s just a bunch of bullshit and…” he trailed off, gazing into the distance at absolutely nothing. It really was dark as hell out here. “I’m sorry, you probably hear all kinds of sob stories from people trying to get out of a ticket.”

“Yeah, I do, but something tells me yours is more legit than most of the BS I’m fed.” The officer shifted and held out his hand. “For formality’s sake though, may I see your license, registration, and insurance card?”

Tim handed over them over, then made a show of picking up his wallet from where it had fallen on his lap to remove his driver’s license.

“Thank you, Mr…Drake-Wayne?” The officer lowered the card and stared at him.

“I suppose that means I’m getting an automatic breathalyzer?”

“Not necessarily. I’ll be right back.”

The officer disappeared for a few minutes and when he returned, he handed everything back. “No priors, I see. Now, I really should write you a ticket, but I’ve got a suggestion for you instead.”

Tim slumped back in the driver’s seat. “What?”

“Two exits up is a truck stop with a diner that’s open twenty-four hours. They have the best pie. I want you to come and have a slice with me.”

“Are you serious?”

“Very. Consider this community service.”

“For you or for me?”

“Both. Come on. I’ll follow you.”

Probably to make sure he didn’t bail on him, but Tim’s car couldn’t go faster than eighty-five these days, so it wouldn’t be much of a chase. He should top off the tank while he was there. Or fill it after a quick glance at the gauge revealed he was close to running on fumes as it was.

If that wasn’t a metaphor for his life, then he didn’t know what was.

Tim did as he was told, with the cop driving close behind him. The truck stop wasn’t special. One of those old pieces of Americana that tried and failed to look like anything other than what it was. Out-dated and tired. Considering they were just outside Blüdhaven, was it really a surprise?

The police officer parked beside him and even grinned when he stepped out of his patrol car. “You’ll love it, I promise.”

He doubted it. Pie was something Jason loved and couldn’t get past his lips anymore.

The inside of the diner was decorated mostly in a shade of mustardy yellow that always reminded Tim of the 1970s. Old and cracked linoleum gave off even more of an air of dilapidation, but it was clean, which he’d give the staff credit for. His nose tingled from the overpowering scents of burned coffee and fried food. And cigarette smoke, lingering from the days before smoking was banned inside all public restaurants. The place would have to burn to the ground before it would ever completely disappear.

There was no waitress to seat them, so he followed the officer down a row of tables where he took a seat in a yellowed booth that was more patches than vinyl. Sitting across from him, he had his first good look at the man.

He was probably one of the most handsome men Tim had ever seen. Lean muscle where his husband had been bulky, the cop had the same black hair as they did. Crow’s feet lined the corners of his baby blues, laugh lines if Tim had to guess. Pinned to his white dress shirt, a name badge read _Grayson_ in all caps.

Officer Grayson reached over and plucked a narrow menu from behind the napkin dispenser. “They keep the pie menu here. You’re looking a little strung out, so I’m guessing decaf coffee for you?”

Tim shook his head. Now that he wasn’t driving, the numbness of everything was setting in. Everything ached. His body, his eyes, his teeth. It was safe to say his hair probably did too. “Water or unsweetened tea. I’ve had too much coffee today.”

Words he never expected to say, but hey, there was a first time for everything. Jason would be laughing his ass off if he’d heard it.

Jason.

The fog descended even more, and it was only Officer Grayson waving a hand in front of his face that snapped him out of it.

“Order some pie. Then we’ll talk. Or rather, you’ll talk and I’ll listen. I think you need it.”

“Do you play therapist with everyone you pull over?”

“Call it part of my community outreach hours. I’ve got a quota each month.”

Tim snorted. “Really?”

“Well, more like a self-imposed quota. Cops have a bad enough rep so I’m just doing what I can to fix that.”

A tired looking waitress made her way over to the table, her sneakers squeaking on the floor. “Hey, Grayson. Time for your pie break?”

“How’d you guess? Amy, this is Tim. He’s had a rough day and needs pie therapy.”

The woman cracked a small smile. “Don’t we all? You want your usual then?”

Officer Grayson shook his head. “I feel like cherry tonight instead of apple.”

“And you, Tim?”

It was on the tip of his tongue to decline, but the cop shot him a wry look. “Pie therapy,” he repeated. “You’ll thank me later.”

“Peach,” Tim mumbled, wondering how he could get out of this. He needed sleep, not pie. And gas. Gas would allow him to get home, not pass the hell out in the backseat at some truck stop outside the Haven.

“I think you said unsweetened tea too,” Officer Grayson stated. “That should be it, Amy. Thanks!”

Tim leaned back and closed his eyes as his exhaustion struck with all the force of a freight train. Why was he here? Why hadn’t he just gone home? Darcy would be glad to see him, he was always happy to see either of his dads, the silly mutt. The American bulldog mix was a massive baby who thought he was still a lapdog despite being more than a few years beyond puppy-hood.

_“I bet he’ll be this way right up until the day he dies. Silly mutt.”_

_“Just remember, you’re the one who wanted a dog. Not me.”_

_“You love this derpy face already, admit it.”_

Jason had smooshed his face against that of his new dog and grinned while saying that. It was a common enough occurrence that Tim had taken a picture of it. Many pictures, although he took them mostly because of his husband’s smile. He had a beautiful smile.

The smile didn’t come so easily these days.

“You’re a million miles away,” Officer Grayson said, and Tim jerked upright.

There was pie on the table. And tea.

Tim went for the tea, not even bothering with the straw, his throat suddenly parched. There was too much ice and tasted like it had been mixed and remixed several times over the course of the day without the previous batch being finished. It was awful and he finished every drop.

“Then again, I suppose I would be too if it were my wife in the hospital. It’s been years since she was.”

“What for?” Tim asked, not especially caring, but deciding he might as well make the effort if it would get him out of here faster.

“Complications from child birth. Mar’i was a high-risk pregnancy to begin with, so we knew the odds. Didn’t stop Kori in the slightest. She’s fearless like that.”

“So’s Jason,” Tim offered. “He takes chances no one else will, mostly because they’re the right thing to do. It’s part of what’s alienated us from his family, as well as mine.”

Officer Grayson gestured with his fork before digging back into his pie. The cherries were canned, that much was obvious, but still a dark, oozing burgundy that stood in stark contrast against the white plate. “Do either of your families know what’s going on?”

“I left a message with Bruce after Jason’s first cardiology appointment but neither of us heard anything back. That was about two weeks ago.” He’d wanted to know if there were any medical records still around from Jason’s birth parents. Bruce had adopted him when he was twelve, and while Jason remembered his mom had been very sick before she passed, he hadn’t known what it was that killed her. His dad had died in prison during a brawl, so that was no help.

Neither was Bruce’s assistant when she finally returned the call, sounding as distracted as the big man himself usually did. Tim firmly suspected his message hadn’t been passed on, but it wasn’t like he had the personal cellphone number of his father-in-law, despite how long he’d been married to his son.

“Yikes. I guess the view from the top isn’t as great as everyone says it is.”

Tim shook his head. “No, and I’m glad I don’t live up there anymore. Although, maybe if Jay or I used our names to our advantage, we’d be a hell of a lot further along with this process.”

“How so?”

“Jason’s been sick for months. At first, we just chalked it up to the summer heat. It’s not uncommon for us to eat less in the summer or to pick at our meals. But Jason went from eating three meals a day, to two, to one. And then to next to nothing.” Tim trailed off, remembering the day when Jason couldn’t even get a chilidog past his lips.

_“Come on, Jay. It’s a _chilidog._ You love these.”_

_“I know, babe. I know.”_

“At that point, we realized there was a problem. Or rather, finally were willing to recognize there was something serious going on. So, we went to our primary care doctor, who referred us to gastrologist. That alone took nearly six weeks and Jason just wasted away. He’s not able to work anymore, can barely sit up in his office chair, actually.”

“What about liquids?” Officer Grayson asked, prodding Tim when he paused for too long. “Can he keep those down?”

“About the only thing he can, yeah. Some days are better than others and I can get something else in his stomach besides nutrition shakes or Gatorade.”

“Does he vomit if he tries?”

“Not that I knew of, at least until last night.” Tim winced, remembering the retching sounds from the hallway bathroom that drew him out of their bedroom. “Jason didn’t want to wake me up. I’ve been working a lot, trying to keep up with things since his short-term disability hasn’t kicked in yet. He snuck out of bed and went down the hall to vomit there. But it woke me up and when I followed, he hadn’t flushed the toilet or washed his face. All the blood…it was everywhere.”

Officer Grayson sighed, sympathy lining his expressive face. “Was that the first time?”

“No,” Tim replied, brokenly. “It started last week, but he didn’t want to tell me. He didn’t want me to worry. Thought that maybe this was it and he wouldn’t have to be a burden on me anymore.”

Stephanie had yelled at Jason over that after she arrived and helped clean him up. He couldn’t even stand on his own, had probably planned to sit right there in the bathroom until he had the energy to move.

_“Jason, do you realize what you could have done?”_

_“Yep. Put everyone out of their misery. Including me.”_

_“You do not get to make that decision on your own. Not when you have Tim. Do you think he’d have appreciated it, finding you dead in a pool of your own blood in the morning when he got up to look for you? Huh?”_

“Ouch.” Officer Grayson set down his fork. “Oh man, no wonder you were on the highway to nowhere tonight.”

Tim shrugged and made an effort to poke at his pie. The fork was heavy in his hand. “It’s just been so hard. All the waiting… I know I’m not the only person out there in this situation, watching someone they love just waste away while we wait our turn for the next test or the next appointment. But that doesn’t make it any easier. In a way, being admitted to the hospital was a godsend because now we’re at the front of the line. Things are finally _serious_ enough.”

“Do they know what’s wrong yet?”

“No. Just that it’s not his heart and that he’s been cleared to get the goddamned upper GI endoscopy he’s needed for the last two fucking months.” Tim stabbed the fork into the pie and watched the sloppy mush of canned peaches squirt out from under the crust. “I could have told them last month. I _did_ tell them that. His pulse is so goddamned slow because his body doesn’t have the energy to keep going. What’s so fucking hard to _understand_ about that?”

“When is the endoscopy?” the cop asked, calm and unperturbed by the outburst.

“Tomorrow. Eleven.”

“Then you’d better be getting home, Tim. It’s already midnight and you’ve got nearly an hour’s worth of highway to backtrack. At the speed limit.”

Tim couldn’t help chuckling at Officer Grayson’s exaggerated wink. He raised his fork and placed a small piece of pie in his mouth. It was too sweet and syrupy, but there was no mistaking the underlying taste of peach. He had another bite. Then another. Before he knew it, the pie was gone.

“Good?” the cop asked.

“Not to sound like a snob, but I’ve had better. My best friend’s family, they make the best pies.”

“Yeah? Where they from?”

“Kansas. Although, he lives in Hawaii now.”

“Now there’s the dream.” Officer Grayson smiled. “Does he know what’s going on here?”

“I…haven’t told him.”

“Maybe you should, Tim. You need to talk someone, not just some cop who happened to pull you over and feed you pie.”

“The pie wasn’t that great.”

“No, it really isn’t, but it got you talking. How do you feel now that you’ve spilled your guts to a complete stranger?”

Tim opened his mouth to retort, then closed it. Underneath it all, he did feel better. Relieved. “Thank you,” he said. “Jason’s always been my rock when I needed it and without him, I feel like I’ve been drifting.”

“We all need that tether, Tim. How’s that saying go? A burden shared is a burden halved?”

“Something like that.” Tim made to reach for his wallet, but Officer Grayson held up a hand.

“I got this. You just do me a solid and get home in one piece tonight, okay? Your husband needs you tomorrow.”

“I will.” Tim slid out of the booth and stood, holding out his hand. “I appreciate you dragging me out here tonight, Officer Grayson. Thank you.”

“Dick.”

Tim blinked. “Excuse me?”

“My name is Dick. Dick Grayson.”

“People still use that?”

Dick grinned like there was a massive joke Tim wasn’t privy to and shook his hand. “It’s a hell of a conversation starter. Unlike Rick.”

“I’ll believe that. Thank you again.”

“I hope everything turns out well for you and Jason. And I’m serious–Talk to someone besides me. You need it.”

“I will. Promise.”

Nodding his good-bye, Tim left the diner.

It didn’t take long to fill the gas tank and he was soon back on the highway, this time driving in the right direction. He felt better, better than he had in weeks. That cop was one hell of a person and his family was lucky to have him, as was the city he served, even though Tim couldn’t help but wonder who he’d pissed off to be stuck on highway patrol duty in the middle of the night. Still, it was a lucky chance for him, and he decided now was as good a time as any to take the advice he’d been given.

He slipped his AirPods into his ears and checked that his phone was on the charger. It too was running on fumes. “Hey Siri. Call Kon.”

It might be midnight here, but it was still early evening for his friend.

“Dude!” came Kon’s cheerful voice from over the line after a couple of rings. “I was just thinkin’ about you and Jay. What’s up? Isn’t it kinda late for you?”

Tim all but melted into the driver’s seat at the reassurance and calm just hearing Kon’s voice gave him. Oh man, why hadn’t he done this sooner? “Yeah, it is. But I need to talk and get something off my chest. Got a few minutes?”

“Yeah, lay it on me. I’m all ears.”

“It started a few months ago…”

**Author's Note:**

> We all need a Kon. There are three of you out there who have been mine and I thank you all from the deepest regions of my heart for helping me through this difficult time.


End file.
